


Why call when you can text?

by DarkShadeless



Series: Law & Order: Star Wars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: And all that entails, Humor, Law & Order: Star Wars, Modern AU, Organized Crime, With A Twist, XD, aka the mafia AU i didn't intend to write, and it's canon is SciFi, cops and robbers, dat moment where you have to tag something, dear god Sar has a mouth on him no matter the universe, my terrible sense of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: A few conversations someone might find on Yon Scarano's phone, not that you'd get your hands on it without a warrant.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. Another attempt at Chapter 3 of Anchor was made xD don't ask me, this is how my brain works. This is the first time I've attempted to add iOS convo into a fanfic, lets see how it goes!
> 
> A bit of background to this AU:  
> It's set in pretty-much-ordinary New York. 
> 
> Somminick Timmns is a public prosecutor and a decent one, though he has the bad luck to come up against defence attorney Yon Scarano every now and again. That bastard is cut-throat in a court room and you’d best believe that he wears suits that cost as much as Somminick’s car.
> 
> Now, Yon for his part... his family, the Scarani, are very well connected. They concentrate their business on the protection of the interests of the private citizen, against a reasonable fee. Additionally they have branched out into import-export of exotic goods, high-risk acquisition of valuables and the pharmaceutical sector, with a few restaurants on the side that are… well invested in.  
> Yes. They’re the fucking Mob.  
> They sent Yon to law school so he could make their legal problems go away. He’s maybe a little too good at that and devilishly handsome in Armani, with an emphasis on the ‘devil’. 
> 
> I'm not entirely sure Somminick was aware of what he was getting into when he struck up this frenemy-ship.
> 
> (Internet cookies for anyone who figures out why Yon's last name makes my day every time I read it.)

Somminick Timmns  
  
GG  
  
I can't believe you got him out of that on a technicality.  
  
Git gud bitch  
  
…  
  
How many cappuccinos have you had   
  
COFFEE IS LIFE  
  
Jesus Christ  
  


Fav cuz <3  
  
You realize I have a name, right   
  
U don’t wanna be my favourite cousin? :(  
  
:P  
  
T__T  
  
>:D  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Somminick Timmns  
  
Pls tell me u'll beat me Timmns  
  
You did not just say that.  
  
U bet ur candy ass I did  
  
Growing a conscience, Scarano? Where was it last week, on holiday in the Bahamas?  
  
Uncle Vanya is an upstanding citizen of the US of A!  
  
And he'd never beat on his wife   
  
_Uncle Vanya_ needed you to get him off a triple homicide charge.  
  
Misunderstanding  
  
He was totes innocent  
  
And i still have no idea how you managed to swing that verdict.  
  
Mad skillz, bra  
  
U shud get some  
  
Like, soonish  
  
I bail this mf, he in Mexico b4 u can say ay caramba  
  
Great. Thanks for the heads up, I guess.  
  
Ur welcome :P  
  


 

~~Fav cuz <3~~ Callin  
  
You flunked that one on purpose.  
  
Pics or it didn't happen  
  
Really? That’s all you have to say?  
  
Can't hear u, cuz, 5th amendment 2 loud  
  
Aunti’s mad  
  
_WHY_  
  
…  
  
he call his old lady a ho in front of their kids   
  
Wow  
  
What an asshole  
  
U don’t say  
  
Still. Prison? Didn’t grandma teach you to take out the trash?  
  
I woulda had Quinn get him some new shoes and a tour of the harbour b the feds up his ass like it's a tax fraud, I swear


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's not talk about how much I had to read up on CSS to make this damn layout work, okay

Unknown Number  
  
I'm going to fucking kill you, you italian rat. You're a dead man.  
  
New number, who dis  
  
Don't play stupid, you know exactly who I am  
  
¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
  
You son of a bitch  
  
I'll castrate you for what you did to my brother, i swear to god  
  
Ur bro shouldn’t hv left evidence lying around like it going out of style  
  
me a miracle worker not jesus  
  
You’re such a fucking liar  
  
I saw you talking to Maria  
  
Ur sis-in-law a material witness  
  
I’ll stick you like a pig. She’s next.  
  
Orly  
  
Take a chill pill, dude  
  
Brb, g2g  
  
Unread Messages  
Don't you dare  
  
SCARANO!

Unknown Number  
  
Bck  
  
I will cut your tongue out and feed it to you   
  
U workin on dat one a while?  
  
Could use some pizzaz  
  
You goddamned motherfucker  
  
Who do you think i am? What do you take me for?  
  
Pretty stupid actually. Have fun, Vemrin. I’m sure I'll see you soon.  
  
What the fuck is that supposed to eujddbdbjdjwuwjdbbfkr   
  
This number is out of service, please contact your provider for further information.   


 

* * *

 

 

They're having a slow night out after work with a few decent drinks in good company when Timmns brings it up.

Unless Yon misses the mark, it's half of the reason his colleague allowed him to lure him out in the first place. Somminick doesn't usually drink on Wednesdays. Very straight-laced, that one. Always just the one hard drink, that he pays for himself. Never more than a few beers to chase it. It's kind of adorable, a little like the way he fidgets when a handsome man flirts with him.

It leaves Yon with nothing more to do than lean back and enjoy the view and that’s just how he likes it. All is fair in love and war and business. Yon Scarano is nothing if not a consummate businessman.

He twirls his tumbler with a practiced hand and has another sip. Can't chug quality alcohol. Too much of a waste.

“Say, Yon have you heard from Vemrin Navarro recently?”

He turns a small laugh into a hum. “Can't say I have. Who was that again?”

The frown on Timmns’ face looks supremely uncomfortable. If he doesn’t stop that he’s going to get wrinkles and wouldn’t that be a crying shame. “The younger one of the Navarro brothers. You remember his sibling? That gang banger you defended a month ago?”

Not that much of a distinguishing criteria. Somminick returns Yon's droll look with a grimace. “The one you wanted me to convict.”

“Oh, that one. The asshole. Wife as a witness for the prosecution, no? Gianni? Gordon?”

“Julio.”

“Right, right. I think I have it now. Little brother hanging off his coattails, 5 foot nothing with a temper and a bad haircut.”

“That’s the one.” Somminick plays with his empty glass for a moment. “He's gone missing.”

“Has he now?”

Yon's colleague and regular opponent seems to be torn between earnestness and suspicion. It would be hurtful if it wasn't so entirely justified. “No one's seen him around. So, I was just wondering…”

“If I heard anything?”

His friend’s relief at the out is palpable. Such an awkward dance, this amiable stalemate they have. Granted, more often for Timmns than for him. _Who has been pressuring him this time, hm?_

“Yes. Have you?”

“Not really. We didn't exactly part on good terms.”

And there he goes, avoiding Scarano’s eyes as if he can’t help himself. Whomever is doing the pushing sure has put a flea in his ear.

_Who am I kidding, ten bucks say it's Jorgan. Again._

That copper hates his guts. For a _reason_ , sure, but none he can nail Yon down on which makes his antagonism all the more entertaining. Right up until he starts bothering his _friends_.

“Inquiring minds want to know, huh?”

Timmns doesn't quite wince. “Sorry.”

“It's alright.” At least he’s straightforward about it. Yon closes his eyes to savour his brandy and, incidentally, hide a smile. “Last I saw him, he got thrown out of the courtroom. He did write me a few messages after, but that was it.”

“Messages?”

“Oh, you know. Curses, threats, ‘Scarano, you're a dead man’. The usual.”

Alarm creeps onto Timmns face, whether because Yon is handing him a motive on a silver platter or because he's actually concerned is anyone's guess. “He- Have you told anyone?”

_Oh, I told **someone** , no worries._

“Eh. He stopped. I figure he got bored or something.”

“Yonya, this is serious! He’s with the _Demonios Ardientes_ , when they issue threats they mean them!”

He's so cute sometimes, Yon could eat him up. Like they don’t both know perfectly well whose payroll he's on. The Fiery Ducks need stilts to reach his level.

Or maybe an excavator. Depends on who you ask.

“Cool it, Somminick. He can't have been that invested, I haven't had to put up with him in weeks.”

“Weeks.”

“Yeah, weirdest thing actually. Started typing nonsense mid-sentence, never bothered me again.” It's not like they can't and won’t pull Vemrin’s message logs, if they're online. The best lies are truth bent to your purpose.

“... really.”

Yon nibbles on the edge of his tumbler, a habit he's never quite shaken, and glances at Timmns with big, brown, guileless eyes. Bambi has nothing on him and neither does detective Aric Jorgan much as he wishes otherwise. “Mmhm.”

“Have you… gone to the police with that?”

How can he say that with a straight face? He’s fucking precious. With a laugh that earns his companion some envy across the bar Yon puts his drink down. “Are you serious? No, I can't say I've bothered our hardworking officers with the fact that some asshole facerolled his keyboard while he was texting me. I'm sure they've got better things to do than listen to my first world problems, Somminick.”

“Right. That's… right.”

Poor Timmns. Scarano'll have to do something nice for him sometime soon. Maybe once this case has gone cold, that should give the prosecutor time to compartmentalize.

_Well, colder than it already is, which is somewhere around sub-zero._

Unless a dear friend of his screwed up royally, Vemrin has disappeared off the face of the earth without a trace. Bad comes to worse, if all else fails and the cops ever do catch on, Pierce's alibi is the next best thing to airtight _and_ bulletproof. It's a work of art.

Yon mapped it himself, he should know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *overlay NCIS theme*


	4. Epilogue

The Bastion  
  
Got the package  
  
You want it tonight?  
  
Tomorrow’s soon enough. I’m not in a hurry.   
  
Whatever you say, boss   
  
;)

* * *

 

_Roughly five weeks ago, in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere_

 

 

The dig’s a wet dream. Fresh, empty, so many people in and out on the regular there’s literally no chance they’ll get their footprints taken even if the cops turn up tomorrow. Be a nice little suburb once they’ve overhauled the area. Lots of picture perfect houses.

The foundation of this one is already halfway finished. Some nephew of a cousin of an acquaintance, who got paid decently to take last shift, has helpfully put up space dividers for their use. Looks like someone’s gonna get a tip.

All that’s left is to wait for the concrete mixer to finish up. Pop, drop, pour a layer. Done and done. The construction crew will take care of the heavy lifting for them come sunup.

Days like this, Pierce really likes his job.

He doesn’t even have to worry about the faint banging coming from the back of their car, no one around to hear it anyway. Now if he could only have a smoke without Quinn getting on his case. As if he was born yesterday. It’s not like he’ll leave the stubs lying around. What is the donut patrol gonna do? Sniff out what kind of tobacco he likes?

What a downer.

Slow night that it is, it leaves him with a whole lot of nothing to do. No traceable phones allowed, damn GPS. He should’ve brought a book. If he has to watch Quinn standing around as if the stick up his ass has straightened out his spine permanently, Pierce’s is going to get a slipped disc without moving a muscle.

“Hey, Quinn.”

“ _What_.”

“Geeze. What bug crawled up your ass and died?” The boss’ bootlick has been in a snit ever since he got around to picking him up, actually. Weird.

Pierce contemplates that bit of wisdom while the mixer chugs away merrily. Not the only weird thing about this whole situation. “So I’ve been thinking.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Ha, ha. Funny. You’re a right comedian.”

“I'm a man of many talents.”

“I bet. Seriously though,” Pierce gives his colleague a look, “Boss didn’t really fall for that sob story did he?”

Quinn doesn’t say a damn word, just keeps staring into the depths of the construction site with his hands behind his back. _Wow. Talkative much?_

“I mean, I get it. Pretty girl, cute kids. Tough situation.” Hell on the heartstrings but none of them is in this because they’re pushovers. Pierce has seen a hundred Maria Navarros come and go in his time. They’re not his business, unless they’re, well. His business. “She’s not one of ours, is she?”

In the quiet of the night the chirping of the local insects is especially loud. So is the muffled riot their cargo is staging. Pierce has half a mind to hit the trunk, tell him to tone it down, but experience says that’ll only encourage him.

Let that one tire himself out, it’ll make their job all the easier later on.

“Didn’t think Scarano went for broads, either.” Boss-man will hit on anything that moves, if it lets him, but he’s more into it with the guys. Pierce can tell, he’s on the receiving end often enough. At least Yonya’s all play. No harm, no foul.

His implied ‘ _Is he thinking with his dick?_ ’ nets him the glare he was angling for. Nothing rubs their teacher’s pet more than a dig at his idol. _So easy._

Instead of a cutting comment Quinn goes for the phone they pulled off the guy in the back. It's already gutted, of course, with the interesting half doing its rounds in the backseat of a cabby that's none the wiser. “Ignoring me now? That’s classy. What are you, five?”

“Shut up, Pierce.”

The taller man is already halfway to his comeback, when his colleague holds out the screen in his direction.

Pierce’s first thought is that Quinn managed to find some sort of dick pic on the thing but it’s _Quinn_. The rest of his brain crawls back from boredom induced coma and he lets out a low whistle. “Olala.”

Unknown number  
  
Guido is good but I’m tired of waiting  
  
This is taking too long  
  
What am i supposed to do about it?  
  
Cut off the head, the whole thing cracks like an egg  
  
Shame if something happened to that legal beagle, might make some people think twice about running their mouth  
  
No one lives forever  
  
Get it done

Now that right there answers a lot of questions, including why they didn’t even stop to scope out their guest’s routine before they nabbed him. Malavai just drove up to him, popped the car lock and told him to get his ass in gear because they were late for their Pilates class.

Fucking Pilates. Now he has to read up on that shit so he doesn’t look like a dancing monkey when someone asks him about it. Chances are the boss will make him attend _at least_ one lesson. _He couldn’t’ve pencilled us in for boxing, could he? What did I do to piss him off this time?_

Pierce’ll have to find out. Later.

No wonder Quinn's huffy, looks like he has been shadowing this punk for days. The last time someone was stupid enough to earn themselves that kind of attention was Pierce’s very first night at work for Scarano. You want to ruffle their boss' peacock-feathers, point him toward some mongrel sniffing around, about to piss on his territory. No one touches what's Yonya's without permission.

Seeing him that ticked is a treat Pierce'll not soon forget. He loves his job, he’s damned good at it, but there’s just something about working for someone who’ll get his hands dirty that puts a smile on his face. Gives him the warm and fuzzies.

The genius in their trunk can be glad he’s getting the budget severance package instead of deluxe. “How come his idiot brother isn’t in there with him, waiting for his early retirement, huh?”

“Federal case. You know what zia Leliana thinks about that.”

Don’t they all. Drag the feds home, you sleep with the fishes.

“I thought he was up for murder.”

Quinn slips the phone back into his suit pocket, distaste plain on his face. “The Demonios have been dabbling in trafficking lately. I hear Shan thinks she can flip him.”

Yeah, that would do it. Pierce doesn’t even bother to suppress a snort. “Lucky bastard.”

“I wouldn’t call twenty-five to life lucky.”

“Compared to what the boss’d do to him if he got a shot? I would.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dmitri Shostakovich - Waltz No. 2*


End file.
